[2nd February 2025 | MAHESHWARI MANSION, NEW DELHI]
The tension in the Maheshwari household was unmistakable.
The chandelier above the main living room flickered faintly as a storm gathered outside, wind howling against the frosted windows. Inside, the storm had already arrived.
Needhi Janki Maheshwari paced the width of her office like a caged animal, fingers trembling as she clutched her phone.
The number she wanted to dial was her daughter's.
They weren't particularly a close mother & daughter pair, but their relationship had worsened especially after their huge fight two years ago.
Even then she would sometimes call her or text her — only if there is a family function she needs to attend. Or to meet a highly eligible bachelor among the sons of her reputable circle of friends.
Obviously Aria always rejected every invitation and proposals she sent.
But this time, Aria had been ignoring her for days now.
No returned calls.
No replies.
It was beginning to irritate her.
Fine.
Let Uttam be the soft rope.
She stepped into her husband's study.
"We need to talk."
Uttam, reading a case file, raised a brow.
"Now?"
"I've found a match for Aria," she said smoothly, casually—as though she hadn't been panicking over her hidden sins and the buried past for days.
He folded the file.
"You've found a match or struck a deal?"
She smiled thinly.
"Does it matter if it's perfect?"
He studied her.
"And who is this 'perfect' match?"
"Ahaan Rajvanshi."
He blinked, surprised.
"Adityanath Rajvanshi's only grandson?"
"Precisely."
Uttam considered it.
He had met the boy briefly before.
A reserved young man, intense, but not unkind. Definitely different from the rest of his infamous family.
"He's not like the others," Uttam said.
"There's decency in him."
"I know," she said, clasping her hands in feigned serenity.
"That's why I agreed. He'll be a good life-partner for Aria."
She didn't need to say anything more.
She didn't mention how this marriage was her insurance policy.
She had so readily offered her only daughter as a bride, to pacify the Rajvanshis who might come after her life one day.
Her daughter isn't a pawn or a sacrifice but a 'shield'.
She will be protecting her family.
○●○
Needhi hovered near Uttam's side like a poised shadow as he dialed their daughter's number.
On the third ring, Aria finally picked up.
"Papa?" Her voice was distant, distracted.
"Yes, beta. How are you doing?," he said, warmth blooming in his tone.
"Um... I'm fine. But why are you suddenly..."
"Oh! So, I can't even call my own daughter to ask about her well-being now?"
"Papa, you know what I meant. You've always been busy. You don't waste your time on useless pleasantries."
"I am your father and anything to do with my children will never be a waste of time."
"Okay, okay. Let's... just get to the point. Because I am busy."
"I wanted to talk to you about something important."
"Are you by any chance... ill?"
"No beta! I am fine infact I am healthier than ever."
"Then who?" Her voice was confused.
"No one. It is actually about you."
"Hell no! Please tell me, this isn't going where I think it is going."
"I've found someone for you. I believe he could be... the one for you. I'd like you to consider this match seriously."
She laughed.
"Papa, I don't have time for some stupid arranged marriage bullshit. I have other priorities."
Beside Uttam, Needhi muttered just loud enough for the phone to catch:
"Of course, of course! Playing house in the middle of nowhere. Must be vital national service."
Aria paused.
'She clearly didn't like the unwanted intervention.'
Uttam sighed.
"I've met him, Aria. He's a good man. Steady. Respectful."
"What's his name?" she asked casually, but there was a sharp undertone he didn't miss.
"Ahaan Rajvanshi."
Silence.
Aria's tone changed-cool, composed, and far too calm.
"... as in theAhaanRajvanshi ? The only heir to the Rajvanshi empire?"
"Yes."
Another beat of silence.
"You were right, Papa. He's the right one for me."
Uttam blinked, surprised by the sudden shift.
Needhi, from behind, smiled thinly.
"Then, come back to Delhi. We've arranged a meeting with the Rajvanshis on the 12th of this month."
"Of course you have mother! Don't worry I'll be there on time, just send me the address..."
They both heard the cold calculation in Aria's voice—but none of them knew what it truly meant.
◇◆◇
[A Week Later – 9th February 2025]
[RAJVANSHI ESTATE, OLD DELHI]
The fog had started to fade, but the chill lingered in the marbled halls of the Rajvanshi estate like a haunting whisper.
Inside his room on the third floor, Ahaan Rajvanshi sat by the tall arched window, the soft light iltering over the sketchpad on his lap. Charcoal dust clung to his fingertips, the edges of his shirt sleeves smeared black where he'd absently wiped them clean.
On the page before him was a rough sketch of two boys — one strong-jawed and laughing, the other's eyes brimming with mischief.
Ahaan's fingers paused at the jawline of the elder figure, his gaze fixed on the face that had been fading from his memory — his twin, Rudra.
It had been over a year since he vanished.
And not a single day passed when Ahaan didn't think of him.
The outside world knew nothing.
And for his family, Rudra had simply... disappeared.
A rebellion, a mistake, or an exile—no one knew the truth.
And if they did, they weren't speaking.
Not even his grandfather.
Ahaan exhaled slowly and closed the sketchpad, brushing the loose charcoal from the corner.
His mother had always said he poured his soul into his art — only she and Dadi (grandma) knew about his secret love for sketching.
And now, with his mother gone, brother missing and Dadi silent, these drawings were his last tether to himself.
A soft knock echoed at his door.
He didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway.
One of the old servants entered, eyes downcast.
"Chote Malik (Young Master), Malik(Master) has called for you in his study."
Ahaan nodded without a word, rising to his feet and wiping his hands on a cloth.
He glanced once more at his sketch before sliding it into the desk drawer and locking it.
○●○
The study room of Adityanath Rajvanshi was a museum of power. Lined with leather–bound law books, family portraits, and ancestral swords that hadn't seen war in decades, it was a place where commands were given and sealed in blood.
Ahaan stepped in silently.
His grandfather sat behind the mahogany desk, fingers steepled, eyes sharper than the winter outside.
"You called me, Dada ji (Grandpa)?"
Adityanath didn't look up at first. He was staring at a closed file in front of him, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he spoke.
"Three days from now," he said slowly, "you will meet someone."
Ahaan's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Your future wife."
The silence that followed was crushing.
"What?" Ahaan asked, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice.
"Without asking me?"
"You were not brought up to make such decisions on your own," Adityanath replied coolly.
"The girl comes from an influential family. 'The Maheshwaris'. The alliance has been agreed upon. You will meet her and the engagement will happen in a few days afterwards."
Ahaan stepped forward, jaw clenched.
"I'm not ready to get married. And I don't even know this girl—"
"You don't need to know her," Adityanath cut him off sharply.
"You need to marry her."
There was a pause before his voice softened—but only slightly.
"This family needs stability. It needs heirs. It needs you.
Rudra abandoned his responsibilities. You will not."
Ahaan wanted to protest further, but he saw the finality in his grandfather's eyes.
This wasn't a conversation — it was a verdict.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders stiff.
"What's her name?"
Adityanath leaned back in his chair.
"Aria Maheshwari. She is a florist."
Ahaan left the office with clenched fists and a storm brewing in his chest.
Unaware that miles away, that same girl was cradling the very legacy of the brother he yearned everyday.